That’s right!
It had to be Anthea.
Relief washed over Rebecca at the thought.
Yes, of course—how could she have forgotten about Alex?
With Alex around, Anthea wouldn’t get a moment’s peace. In fact, Alex would probably destroy her completely.
Rebecca glanced anxiously toward the door. Alex’s figure had vanished, but just in case he was still nearby, she lingered in the restroom for another ten minutes before finally stepping out.
Back at the Morris family estate, Rebecca summoned her assistant upstairs.
“Yes, Miss? Is there something you need?”
A cold, venomous gleam flickered in Rebecca’s eyes. “Find a few thugs and send them to pay Carole Yeager a little visit. Make sure you take some photos and send them to all of Carole’s friends and family.”
She couldn’t deal with Anthea directly, but Carole was another matter entirely.
Why should that mother and daughter get to live so well while her own life fell apart?
If a mother owes a debt, let the daughter pay it.
She would see to it that Carole became the town disgrace—a woman scorned and ruined in Cloudcrest.
Just picturing it filled Rebecca with wicked satisfaction.
With a scandal like that hanging over her mother’s head, Anthea would be too ashamed to show her face ever again.
Have some thugs “pay her a visit”? Take photos?
Rebecca’s words were loaded with implication, and the assistant hesitated. If she remembered correctly, Carole was Rebecca’s adoptive mother. For all their history, they’d once been family. What Rebecca was asking bordered on monstrous.
But she was just an assistant. Orders were orders. “Understood, Miss. I’ll take care of it.”
“Make sure to gather enough men,” Rebecca said coolly. “Carole’s been a widow for years. She must be desperate by now.”
The assistant nodded, unsettled by the cruelty in Rebecca’s tone.
“That’s all. Go make the arrangements.”
“I’ll leave you now. Let me know if you need anything else,” the assistant replied, and slipped out.
...
Midnight.
Carole finished closing up the restaurant and headed home. Usually, she made it back by eleven-thirty, but cleaning up had taken longer tonight.
Her apartment complex wasn’t far. Just a ten-minute walk through a narrow alley, and she’d be home.
As she walked, Carole reminded herself—she really needed to get her driver’s license soon; commuting would be so much easier that way.
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